Break You Down
by Dragoness114
Summary: AU. Tori Vega lives alone, pushing away everyone who attempts to get close after what happened to her all those months ago. But when an old friend comes begging at her door for place to stay, will Tori be able to keep the walls she built so strongly? Or will Jadelyn West break down her barriers and find the Tori that has been there hidden all along?
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Hey there lovelies(: This is my second Jori fic, in progress, while I'm doing another one at the same time so it might get a bit crazy. This idea came to me while me and my best friend were talking about moving in together after college and I just had to write it and transform it into this story. First person and present tense is more my forte which is why I believe this will be much better written than Burning Wings which is past tense and third person so if you wonder if it's the same person writing these two fics, I promise you it's me. This is very AU, using only the character's names but whole different backgrounds. It's going to be a very emotional story so be ready for that. I promise it will get light hearted soon but you gotta wade through the anguish to get to the happiness. Reviews are greatly appreciated because they help me understand what you guys think and what I can improve on so please review. I adore you all if you're reading this but the real story lies below so get down there and get lost. Review(:**

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The wind is bitingly cold, unusual for L.A. Accustomed to the warm beaches of Florida I had played in while growing up, the unfamiliar harshness of the breeze chills me to the bone. I had figured Cali would be a close climate to home but I had forgotten about the sudden cold spells that could settle in. Somehow, I manage to settle into my black Civic without freezing to death, my fingers frantically pushing the dial to the red streak. Warm air blasts through the vents, choking the air with its heaviness but unthawing my fingers in the process. When I settle comfortably onto the black leather, I close my eyes as my body feels warm for the first time in hours. A sigh escapes my lips as I sit contently in the familiar stifling heat. My thoughts drift off into blankness, a habit I had picked up from school. I smile as I remember Professor Lane explaining the different techniques of stress relief, things that could help our clients open up or just to calm them down. He had advised that we follow them as well whenever we needed to take a breath and put life on hold for a second. The blankness of the mind always worked on me and I tended to use it a lot these days. Enjoying the atmosphere for as long as I could, with a lighter heart I open my eyes. It was time to get home.

I turn the dial down to normal and allow the temperature in the car to regulate to a cooler air. Jamming the jingling keys into their slot, I listen as the car purrs to life. I pull out of the parking lot as my thoughts wander away to the most unexpected places. Flashes of my day fly by mixed in with random cravings and wants conflicting with worries and tensions which in turn were soothed by the soft touch of happy memories which in case were drowned by heavy memories loaded with despair. With the whirling tornado swirling uncontrollably in my mind, I come to a stop at the light and glance up. The red rays laugh at me, taunting me with their glare. I look to my right only to have my gaze fall upon a teenage boy in the front seat. His stance is one of a confident douchebag, me having plenty of experience in recognizing the type. His blonde hair glints in the lights of the streetlamps as he turns to see my chocolate brown eyes resting on his figure. He gives me a cheeky smile, even going as far as winking at me as if I would suddenly fall at his toes. Rolling my eyes, I turn back to the lamps above me only to watch the anticipated light turn from red to green. The pedal beneath me melts away at the lightest touch and I accelerate forward.

L.A. really is a beautiful city especially at night. The beach is lit up with pier carnivals and bodies of people running through the darkness, sand slipping between their toes. The boardwalk is illuminated by the soft shadows of light that keep the ever present night at bay while the stars twinkle quietly above them. Shops and restaurants are buzzing with activity, families enjoying a night in the cool temperatures. Many of them sport gloves and coats to keep the cold out of their souls while enjoying the time they've been given anyway. There are still moments where I wish I could join them in their laughter while they live life the way I've always wanted to. Cat calls me out for Girl's nights occasionally but it's never the same. We go to cute restaurants and partake in fun activities, but things have changed. After what happened, she's never been able to pull me out of this, out of the effects of what he did. She missed the old Tori Vega, the one who was smiles and giggles, always ready to help out her friends. The old Tori Vega who used to sing. I knew I had hurt her when I pulled away, when I stopped singing, when I had distanced myself from the world. But it was the only thing I ever knew to do. She tried to get me to sing sometimes, hinting at it from different angles but eventually she gave up. She didn't know what to do with me, and I didn't blame her. I wouldn't know what to do either if our positions had been switched. Though I had to thank Cat. She was the only one who had stayed after I had drifted off into my universe of only me. Andre, Robbie, Trina, my parents, they all walked away. They got tired of pushing. They got tired of my walls, of my barriers, of my silence. Andre had tried the hardest, eventually giving up after I stood him up, yet again for a night out even though I didn't have work. Trina called occasionally, once every month while my mother's voicemails turned into twice day, to once a day, to once a week, to once every two weeks, and now once every two months. I never picked up her calls anymore and let her worries go to the answering machine. The only reason Cat was able to contact me was because she had the key to my apartment and wasn't afraid to barge in with her giggles and happiness, ready to force me to go walk the town with her.

"_Come on Tori! Let's go have some fun! There's a new restaurant on Jenson Boulevard called Jeffery's I think you'll like it!"_

"_Come on Tori, they opened a cupcake factory on the other side of town, we __**have **__to go check it out!"_

"_Come on Tori, I have tickets to your favorite band, they're playing at the Arena on Sunset, come on get ready!"_

Always the bubble of sunshine, something I used to be. She never gave up, no matter how many times I'd refuse her. Eventually, I stopped saying no and let her drag me places against my own will, forcing a smile to live on my face for the duration of the time we spent together. But she was always there, and I was thankful for her presence more times than I could count. In fact, after what happened, Cat was the first one to make me talk. She never asked any questions as if she knew that I would shatter to pieces at the slightest touch, which I would have. She was at the hospital every day talking excitedly about nothing and everything while I'd sit there and watch her with blank eyes. I remembered Andre and Robbie coming in at the beginning, trying desperately to make me laugh, to make me smile, anything at all. But as I refused to respond, their visits became shorter and shorter until they stopped coming. My parents flew in from Orlando, my mother sobbing next to me as I sat quietly, refusing to meet anyone's gaze. Trina had taken my hand, saying something that I hadn't registered. After two weeks, it was Cat who sat next to me, quiet as she awaited my arrival from the world of dreams. And when I had finally thrashed wildly, screaming for help, for someone to save me, just save me, it was Cat who shook me awake, who held me in her arms as I cried. She had sat there, rubbing my back, letting me cry into her hair. She had said nothing, only murmuring words of comfort in my ear. No questions were asked. And when I had calmed down and my heart rate resumed a healthy pace, I had looked at her with a tear streaked countenance and whispered my first sentence in two weeks.

"_Thank you._"

I had told no one what had happened. I'm sure they all had guessed or suspected it but I answered no one if they asked me to my face. The doctors had figured it out easily, but at my request they kept the information to themselves. I was above 18, it was up to me. I proved them that I was mentally stable, telling them everything they wanted to hear, paid my bills, and checked out as soon as possible. And when I walked out of that hospital, I put up walls made of solid bricks with layers and layers encasing my soul. I slowly eased out of everybody's lives, only Cat knowing I had checked out that day and volunteering to drive me home. The car ride was filled with one sided chatter, never a real silent moment with Cat. Again, I noticed she asked no questions and expected no answers. She rambled on about nothing at all while I sat there wondering what the hell I did wrong as the tears started streaming down my face. I knew she saw me, sitting in her passenger seat silently crying. I saw her keep the question to herself and she only pulled into a parking lot, stopped the car, crawled over to my seat and held me while I cried. She didn't say a word, only pulling my body closer to hers and wrapped her arms around my torso while my warm tears met her neck. After my tears had subsided, with still no other sound from me, she had climbed back into the driver's seat, started the car, and proceeded to drop me home. When we had finally parked in front of my apartment building, she had taken a deep breath and finally asked a question for the first time since what happened.

"Do you want me to stay the night?" Her voice had been soft, warm but it wasn't what I needed. I slowly shook my head, surprising her with my actual response to her question.

"Call me if you need anything okay?" With a nod, I had pushed myself off the warm seat and made my way into the dark structure that housed my shelter. I remember walking up the stairs with a heavy tread, my eyes locked on each step that entered my line of vision. My feet had felt heavy and there had been a burning in my lungs I refused to feel. I remember walking up to my front door, the cherry oak of the door emanating a warmth I could sense as if my home was trying to let me know it would support me, it would carry me through this, it would help me stand. I had stuffed my key in the lock, opening the door to walk into my home for the last two years. I remember setting my bag and the keys on the kitchen counter, glancing over the red flashing answering messages filled with words of people that were heavy with pity and concern, and walking over to my bedroom. I remember burying my face into my pillow, deciding then and there, to shut them all out. To refuse to let anyone in at all, to keep them all at arm's length.

And the next morning I continued on to work like nothing happened.

Like I had never been broken in the first place.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Hi guys! I love the response this story has gotten so far! I love writing this because first person lets me dive into the character's thoughts and background so much more. Who knows, this might even be a book one day with different names of course ;) Anyway, here's Chapter 2. It's a bit more of Tori's history and story which i promise is necessary for you to understand her. Jade will show up, I promise. Just not in this chapter. I want you to guys to understand Tori's character and why she is the way she is. Her head is filled with interesting emotions that cling to your heart and that is what is going to make this special. So bear with me and await the arrival of Jade, because I promise, she'll be here soon. Please review, they motivate me to keep going. I love everyone who has followed, favorited, and reviewed this story. That took seconds of your life that you're never going to get back, and I'm amazed that you spend them on me. I love you all(: Now get down there, and get lost.**

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The car rumbles softly as I turn into my apartment complex. _Cherryhill Suites _shines down at me in glowing letters, the vowels flickering so that it looks like a mesh of characters that make no sense at all. My headlights flood the driveway, showcasing the dancing gravel vibrating on the cement. Trees loom over the road and elongated branches slowly make space for the luminescent moon to be seen through the midst of the leaves. It isn't a bad area to live in, considering there is an azure pool littered with leaves and urine in the back and the fact that the apartments on the west side have a view of the ocean. Back when I had first moved in, I also appreciated the fact that it was a short driving distance from a small hubbub of shops and bars, not to mention it was walking distance from the beach. Rent is a bit more expensive than expected but since my student pay for working at the Counseling Center was higher than a regular dropout trying to make his fate in the city of angels, I'm able to live pretty comfortably. Making rent every month had never been a problem from me, but now of course, it is much easier since I refuse to step foot out the apartment unless a need calls me to it, such as work, grocery shopping, or of course my adventures with Cat. It isn't that I am scared of it happening again. It's more like I don't want the opportunity to arise. I do all my shopping in the daytime and at night I stay locked inside my room. Cat understands this and when she comes over after the sun sets and allows the darkening night to encroach on our territory, she always declares a movie or cooking night, granting me the comfort of staying inside. There was a time when I would walk along the beach at night and listen to the crashing waves. I would sit along the shore line and close my eyes as nature's music would envelop my senses. It had been my comfort zone, my place of escape. I used to do the exact same thing at home in Florida when I was little. Our house had been right along the beach and I would sneak out to lie in the sand and watch the stars. I had always loved that about the stars. No matter where you are in the world, the stars always look the same. And someone else out there, was seeing the same twinkling beauties.

I didn't walk the beach anymore of course. I stopped going to karaoke bars, night clubs, restaurants. My father, being Italian, had taught me more than enough about cooking so that I would never go hungry. The only reason food wouldn't be in my stomach was because there were times when I refused to eat. There were days where I just sit on my sofa, watching my TV with glazed eyes, not registering the pang of hunger in my stomach. In the morning, I would find myself in the same place, insomnia plaguing my body. The dreams would terrify me and I would end up thrashing wildly like that night at the hospital, only there was no Cat to hold me this time. Which was a good thing. The less they associated with me, the better. I'd only tear them down. My life has become one of simple routine. In the morning, I awake from the little sleep I have managed to catch, grab a bottle of lemon tea, and walk out the door to drive to work. Then I come home and attempt to relax and sleep or Cat would barge in demanding my presence. Either way I'd make my way home and at the end of the night. I'd be lying on my bed or sofa, thinking about the demons that swirl inside my brain.

My hours at the counseling center always consist of watching professional psychologists with their clients on video. I was never allowed to sit in the room of course, the action being simple enough to destroy a person's comfort level in a matter of seconds. I'm at the learning stage, having completed my actual schoolwork. Eventually, I would be able to take on a client of my own and my success with them would help my professors determine if I was ready for my degree. I'm thankful that I have not yet been assigned a client considering the fact that I barely talked myself. Mixing personal issues with business is grounds for extending the time needed to obtain my masters.

All of my friends had expected me to become a singer. It was something I had loved with all my soul, always walking around with buds stuffed in my ears as I belted out the words to my favorite songs. I had been told my voice was angelic, alluring, even captivating. I had been in choir all through school and had been praised by countless faces all blurring together in my memory. So it came to a shock to many to learn that I had chosen to pursue a career in Psychology. It wasn't a difficult decision for me at all. It was my passion to help people, it still is. I loved listening to people confide in me about their deepest worries and stresses and having the ability to make them melt away. I had been told I was a good listener, empathetic and sympathetic; the perfect bend for a psychologist. Singing was a hobby, something I could so in my spare time, but I didn't want to base a living on it. I had been ask why I hadn't traveled down psychiatry instead, and my answer was simple. I didn't want to solve problems by prescribing medicines. I want to help people naturally, by talking to them, breaking through their tough barriers. The only problem was, watching their barriers crumble only taught me how to make my own indestructible. But in the end, a smiling Victoria Marie Vega went off to college on the other side of the country.

UCLA had always pulled me in with its grinning students, crystal beaches and close proximity to the city. The years there had been the best four years of my life. That's where I had met Cat, Robbie, and Andre. Cat was my bubbly roommate, ready to turn even the smallest occasion to a big happy adventure. She was majoring in Theatre, her dream to be in movies one day. Robbie and Andre had lived in the room across from ours, the building being a coed dorm. Robbie was studying technical effects while Andre's chosen path was music. We all had learned a lot in our time at UCLA, me learning so much about people and how to talk to them. Clinical Psychology was my calling, and I flew through the courses with amazing scores and I met amazing people. But in the end, Cat, Robbie, Andre and I would be the ones to meet up at the craziest of times and go on the most exciting adventures. We became a family, close knit and affectionate. After we had decided to move off campus, we went apartment hunting together. Andre and Robbie, used to living with each other for four years, decided to share a flat while Cat and I had searched for separate apartments. I had asked Cat if she wanted to stay together but she surprised us all by voicing that she wanted to try and be independent for the first time in her life. Shrugging, I had agreed. We found Andre and Robbie a place within the first couple weeks. They live about 10 minutes away from my complex in Songbird Hills. Cat lived only 5 minutes away, across the road in The Candy Shops. It was close enough that we could run over to each other at moment's notice and we both adored the location.

The first couple months were hard. Cat and I were constantly over at each other's homes, unused to the separation that had distanced us for the first time in four years. My apartment is cozy, a warmer feel to the space. When you first walk in the door, you are immediately faced with the kitchen, filled with cherry wood cabinets and shining tiles. In front of the kitchen, or to the left when one first enters, is the living space, the center of the area. A large TV rests along the wall behind it and a leather sleeper sofa is splayed out in front. Besides the sofa are two love seats, positioned toward each other with a small coffee table in the middle. There are two end tables on both sides of the sofa, carrying antique lamps and many of the scattered books that always lay around the house. The colors are warm, comforting and my own decorations line the walls and make the apartment my own. Across the room, away from the windowed wall and the small balcony, is my bedroom. The bathroom is on the left side, visible to the eye when you walk in, and my bed faces you as you enter. I had always had a habit of throwing my clothes everywhere when I was done wearing them, but as soon as I had moved out the clothes were soon replaced with books. Five bookshelves occupy my room, with even more swatches of paper littering the floors. I'm a writer as well as a singer. The writing had come from an avid love of reading. On the other side of the apartment, closer to the door is the second bedroom for guests whenever they decide to stay the night. It is decorated sparsely, only filled with enough neutral and warm colors to make overnight visitors comfortable when they decide to crash. Its bathroom is on the right when you walk in.

Cat never slept in the other bedroom when she spent the night. She always used to lay down in my bed with me, talking and giggling until the wee hours of morning. It took time for us to get used to living away from each other. In the beginning, there were always sleepovers, movie nights, dinners, using anything as an excuse we could use to be together. We even invited Robbie and Andre over more than necessary, choosing not to venture into their apartment of the unknown boy. Two years went on like this. My life was happy. I had an amazing time studying what I loved and my closest friends were with me whenever I needed them.

And then, that night had ruined it all.

Here I am now, trudging up the steps of the now dark building, shivering from the cold air that had followed me inside. Here I am, forcing my key into the lock and walking inside as I throw my bag onto the kitchen counter. Here I am, making my way to my bedroom to get ready for a sleep I know will never come.

Here I am.

Alone.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: First of all, you guys better feel special. It is 5 o'clock in the morning and I've been writing this since 1. That's dedication right there(: I wanted to get this update up as soon as possible and believe or not, this story has sucked me in as well. All I want to do is write it. I swear, I would type it out until I'd have a whole novel by the end of the week if I was allowed to write this nonstop. Anyway, I just wanted to let you guys know that school starts for me on Monday, meaning I will have less time to update regularly. This upsets me more than you, I promise, but I will try my absolute hardest to get updates out quickly. Maybe once a week? We'll see. Thank you again to everyone to reviewed, favorited, and followed. It means the world and I say it every time cuz its true. Enough of me! Don't forget to review! Now get down there, and get lost.**

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The temperature of the room chills me, not as cold as the air outside, but sharp nonetheless. I reach for the thermostat, adjusting it so that my blood is not hindered from rushing within my body by the icy solidification that would undergo my soul if I continued to freeze in my inverted shelter. I walk to my closet, opening the wooden doors to reach for my favorite pair of pajamas, a Christmas present from Cat. They are as red as the hair that frames her shining face and are fluffy, perfect for a bitter atmosphere such as this. Dragging a bristled brush through my hair and splashing cold water upon my countenance, I walk back out to my living room with quiet steps.

The answering machine flashes red with three new messages, pity and worry from those who still claim to value my existence. I had almost disconnected the phone line in disgust after the first onslaught of messages but I knew that my mother was on the lookout for any signs that proved to her I needed psychological help, and cutting off all contact from those who supposedly cared about me fit in that category. I chuckle darkly, remembering her words when she had come to visit me in the hospital before their flight home.

"_Tori honey? Our flight is in an hour and I wanted to visit you one last time. Are you sure you don't want to come home with us sweetheart?"_

_I look at Cat pleadingly, begging her to voice the response in my eyes. Cat nods with sweet understanding and turns to face my mother._

"_Mrs. Vega, she doesn't want her schedule here to be interrupted with her hours at the Counseling Center and her routines at the moment. She feels like a new environment would only give her more time to reflect on what happened, while staying here would keep her mind off things." My best friend speaks with a calm but firm tone, laying a hand on my mother's shoulder for comfort._

_Cat then leans in closer and whispers softly in my mother's ear._

"_Don't worry Mrs. Vega. I'll take care of her." _

_My mother stifles a sob and only takes me in her arms, choking me in her pity and sorrows. _

"_I will be there for you whenever you need me baby. I'm just a phone call away. I won't give up on you. If you need help, we'll get you help. We'll do anything you need. Whatever you need, whenever you need it. I love you darling."_

_I nod, refusing to meet her eyes in fear of the webs of deceit I would find buried inside her soul. I would see fake condolences, declarations of support, all of which I knew would fall away quickly. My mother always gave up easily. Especially on me._

I reel back from the unexpected memory, taking in the flavor of disappointment that resides in the past. After two months of trying, my mother had slowly drifted away from me, unsure about how to comfort her own flesh and blood. She regards me as a fragile piece of glass, colored red with pain, broken apart, and easy to shatter. I am an animal in a zoo, fascinating to poke and prod at while fictitious laments bubble within the watcher as they try to analyze the existence of my being. In all honesty, it is annoying. It is fake. It is heart breaking. But the pain of pretended care will only tear me apart if my heart hangs freely upon my sleeve, vulnerable to the elements of raging emotions. After what happened, that heart is now caged away under layers of stone, shackled to a rock, and is sentenced to never see the light of day again. The time in the sun is over. Now, only darkness resides as the looming cover.

Pressing the play button on the flashing machine, I make my way into the kitchen with hunger gnawing at my bones. I decide to make pasta with marinara, memories of my smiling father trickling to the surface. As I pull out the ingredients, my ears listen to the first voice that resounds playfully throughout the room.

"Hi Tori! It's Cat! Andre, Robbie, and I wanted to go out to get some sushi at Nozu, just like old times this Friday for lunch. I know you're probably busy but Andre told me to tell you that he misses you. So does Robbie. Oh, and Robbie promises he won't bring Rex this time since he knows how much you don't like him! So call me back okay? And I'll come over Thursday night for a movie night since I bought some new ones at the dollar store. Then we can make red velvet cupcakes too! Well, gotta go! Bye Tori! I love you!"

I fight a smile as I listen to the overenthusiastic excitement of my best friend. I'd have to refuse her offer for meeting them for lunch on Friday of course, but I can't stop her from having the movie night. Cat is too persistent to be shut out. Besides, I wouldn't admit it to anyone anymore but I enjoy her company. Her presence makes me feel a bit lighter, freeing me from my worries even if only for a short amount of time. She is still the only one I can actually hold a real conversation with even when it isn't necessary. Around others, I only respond to what is needed. With Cat, my conversations are short, but plentiful. That is something only she can manage to pull out of me.

Chopping the tomatoes and throwing them in the pan with the now sautéing onions, I breathe deeply as the smell permeates my senses, listening for the next voice that plans to worm its way into my evening. From the first word, I pause, recognizing the voice but allowing confusion to wash over me. He hadn't talked to me ever since he had announced to my face that he'd officially given up.

"Hey muchahcha, it's me. Tor… I'm really sorry for how things happened. I'd take it all back. I _do_ take it all back. I just… I miss my best friend Tori. It's not the same without you. Call me back okay? Or since you don't call anyone anymore, meet us at Nozu on Friday. I know Cat's probably already asked but I'm begging here. We miss you. Come back. Love you. Bye."

His voice echoes away, followed by the automated voice message announcing the time the plea was deposited into my life. I know Andre is taking this the hardest. He was always the one I went to when I needed someone to talk to. I've never shut him out like this before and he doesn't know how to deal with it. He thinks my shell can be broken, that I can be his Tori again, his best friend. He doesn't understand that I can't. I can't be her, not without letting my walls down. A tear escapes my notice and cascades down my gaunt cheeks, pausing when it flows to my chin. Its weight hesitates before it pulls itself down, imprinting a temporary mark upon my nightwear. I'm sorry Andre. The fortress stays up.

I am shaken out of my stupor by the subconscious need to pull the pasta out of the boiling pot. I grab the strainer and allow the warm waters to drain away, as they unwillingly launch themselves down the maze of pipes where their instincts will guide them to the sea. For the third time, a new voice fills the air, tinged with emotions that reek of plastic and falsehood.

"Hey Tor, it's Trina. Mom couldn't call this week; something came up so she asked me to. I hope you're doing alright. Call me if you need to talk okay? And tell me all about the cute boys you see! Toodles!"

The flirtatious lilt in her voice makes me sick. My stomach churns in more disgust than anger but I push it away, unable to deal with her irritating conceptions at the moment. I scrape half of the pasta onto a plate, moving in on the unfinished marinara sauce. My sister is either a cruel spawn of the devil or she's just plain stupid. Judging by the way she had lived her life for the past twenty eight years, I'm willing to go with the latter. She moved away from Orlando two years before I got accepted into UCLA, claiming a cosmetology night school in New York had accepted her immediately. She had announced her departure the night before her embarkation at dinner, shocking us all to the point where a stern discussion took place and the peach cobbler remained untouched, and then took off the next morning leaving a short note of farwell. She has never cared for anyone but herself, vowing to live her life the way she so desires while ignoring everyone's opinion in the process. No one really knows what she did in New York but judging by the lack of evidence pertaining to the furthering of her education, it can be said that Trina did not go to New York to learn the application of stage make up. The unanswered query on how our DNA is similar floats through my thoughts constantly at the most unexpected of times, such as now, when I am attempting to produce a spicy enough marinara sauce to satiate my Italian cravings.

The machine spoke again, this time stating that all messages had been relayed, and settled back down into hibernation, awaiting the next day when it would be awoken by the bubbly ramblings of Cat. Mother usually called once every two months so her obligation was fulfilled by her talentless daughter and Andre never called except for today. Judging by the evident fear and concern in his voice, he would wait to call me again until Friday if and when I refused to make an appearance at Nozu. He would probably call later that night, furious and angry, ranting about how he had tried continuously for two months to get through to me but I was blocking him out. The same situation from last time would replay again, this time set three weeks after the previous, and I would stand across from him, silent and defiant as I would refuse to meet his eyes while he unleashed his fury on me in the form of uncontrollable anger. He might even show up at my door again, pounding and demanding that I let him in, only to be escorted away by security when the neighbors call the front gates and complain of the blaring intrusion. I am willing to bet another three weeks will pass by and the cycle will repeat itself until he understands that I am never going to let anyone back in, even him. It is a firm decision, bearing its consequences that I gladly accept in return of never shattering to dust. It is a lonely life, a lie I dare not tell, but it is a safe one.

I finish the marina sauce, the warmth of the stove filling the air as I pour a small helping of red heaven atop my pasta. Steam curls into wisps as I ladle the thick delectable onto my dinner and I take the heated heap of food to the small dinner table. I reach into the drawer besides me and grasp a silver fork, twirling it between my fingers. A thought pricks up inside my head and ponders whether it would be nice to sit on the balcony and watch the ocean from afar while I attempt to enjoy my meal but the memory of bitingly cold swirls of air makes me shiver and I decide against it. Sitting down and shoveling my silverware into the warm food, I'm about to bring it to my mouth when I hear a knocking on the door.

I pause, taken aback by the sudden sound. It can't be Cat; she would have called or made her presence known. Besides, Cat has a key. I doubt it's Andre; he won't know how to approach me just yet. Robbie? He's the one that gave up the fastest, unsure on how to act around me, and eventually choosing to ignore the situation. Besides them three, who would show up at my apartment at 10:30 in the middle of the night? I rise slowly, resting my fork on the white china. Quietly, I make my way to the door, making sure my footsteps don't patter loudly on the carpet. The incessant knocking resounds again, a desperate noise. I remember that it is cold outside, probably causing the unwelcome visitor to shiver violently, seeking an escape from the harsh gales that must have followed them inside. I rest a hand on the tarnished knob, reaching up on my tiptoes to gaze into the peephole, my curiosity burning and eating away at my soul.

The visitor, a woman, has her face turned downwards, her raven locked hair hiding her expression. Her hands are wrapped around her midsection which is clothed in a black thin leather jacket which provides little protection against the icy air. She is shivering slightly, her body trembling as she awaits a presence at the door. A pale hand reaches again to knock, fingers shaking as if they might turn numb. A suitcase rests at her side, battered and frayed from long weary travel. Who is this woman?

Unable to resist the search for answers from the uncontrollable barrage of questions attacking my thoughts, I slide the lock towards the right and pull open the door as it creaks loudly. The woman looks up, her eyes latching onto mine. I freeze, unable to move or think. In that moment, there is only me and those piercing eyes of jade green.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Hi lovelies! Oh my its been so long since I last updated this and that makes me feel terrible! If you want to hear my excuses and reasons, keep reading this. If not, get down there(:**

**Ok so most of you know I started school again and I'm doing college level classes and things in high school which in turn dictates my life and ensures I only get 3 hours of sleep a night! It's pretty bad. But I have figured out that I have time to write a chapter each weekend of a story. Last weekend, I updated Burning Wings, and this weekend, it's Break You Down. This tells me I can update each story every other week. Trust me. I know it sucks. And I hate it, but it's the only time I have): Don't hate me, I'm sorry! But on the bright side, this chapter is longer than usual and I think you'll like it! I hope. Maybe. Possibly. **

**But that is my little spiel for the night! It's 1 am here. I'm exhausted. See what IB does to me?! Anyway. I adore absolutely everyone who has followed or reviewed or even favorited! You guys are amazing, I cant thank you enough. Here's your treat for you(: Don't forget to review ok? **

**Now get down, and get lost. **

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It is as if a ray of paralyzation has settled over me, stunning my mind into a momentary lapse of immobile thoughts. My heart continues to beat, pushing the rushing blood through my veins, the only movement in the piece of stone I have become. The only string that keeps me tied to the world is those eyes, eyes of sparkle and exhaustion. They shift constantly in the light, and I can detect a probe within them, studying me and my movements as I stand there gazing at my unexpected visitor. I try to force myself to say something but my tongue lies unmoving within me, resting smugly as I make a fool of myself.

In the silence, she is the first to speak, eyeing me with cautious eyes.

"May I come in?"

Her voice is deep, alluring. It draws me in like a moth to flame, a light I cannot touch but every sense within me tingles for desperation. The timbre echoes of harsh experience and hardships I have yet to experience. I find the energy to nod and I step aside, allowing her to enter. She looks at me carefully and slowly steps in, careful not to make contact with me. Her suitcase bumps against her with a soft thump and she stands awkwardly by the door as she sets down her bag. I summon the ability to close the door and look at my new visitor.

She is still shivering, her jacket providing little protection from the teeth of the cold outside. Her hands are stuffed inside her pocket, her head facing towards the floor. Her posture is straight, emanating a confidence and pride in her position. Her toes are pointed in toward each other, signaling a slight nervousness and her eyes flit up to meet mine, only to look way when I catch them.

A feeling of pity bubbles within me and my heart melts at the sight of this freezing woman. I carefully gesture to the couch, allowing her to sit if need be. She nods carefully and slips off her shoes as she walks towards the living area. Questions buzz in multitudes within me but I stifle the natural curiosity and walk towards my kitchen, glancing back at my visitor as I go. I reach the tiled floors and pull out a mug from the cabinet, remembering my cooling dinner on the stove. I shake my head, shooing away all thoughts that don't concern this woman and I take the jug of milk out of the fridge and proceed to pour a glassful to warm up. Setting the mug in the microwave, I pull out some ingredients for chamomile tea while rationale began to settle in. What if she was a serial killer? A robber? A murderer? Someone on the run from the law? She could kill me in my sleep. Then again, I muse, I wouldn't mind being killed at the moment. Nothing was tying me to this world anyway. If she was someone of that nature, the least I could do before I died was help a poor shivering soul out. Besides, I could just ask her politely to leave after she was warmed up. It was getting colder in the wind outside and she was definitely not dressed for the weather that would soon prevail. And those eyes… they hold something I cannot explain. I have seen a lot of people ever since I chose to become a psychologist, but those eyes…. They hold secrets, secrets that are covered in walls that have a very familiar structure.

The beeping of the microwave shakes me out of my thoughts and I pull the milk out, watching it slosh gently within the mug as I add all the ingredients needed for the tea. I watch as gentle wisps of smoke dance into the air and wrap my hands around the porcelain as I walk towards my living room. The woman is still on the sofa, appearing to be deep in thought. My footsteps are quiet, making my way next to her and setting the mug down on a coaster in front of her. She jumps at the unexpected movement, her eyes finding me and calming slightly. Her gaze holds questions and her voice follows her inquisitive gaze.

"What is this?"

I am captivated by the sound as it echoes within me. There is a magic to her voice, a quality I have never had the pleasure to experience before.

"Chamomile. It'll warm you up."

She nods gratefully and brings the mug to her lips. I watch as she takes a sip, involuntarily closing her eyes as the warmth spreads through her body. A small smile tugs at the corner of her lips and she sits there in the silence enjoying the comfort that envelops her soul. I take this time to study her, quietly taking a seat on the loveseat on her left as she drinks more of her comforter.

Her hands have a tight grip on the mug, a firm grasp showing just how much she needs the warmth. Again, her posture is straight, showing a strong stance on confidence and pride. She is not one to be messed with, or she will tear you down. One leg is settled next to the other, tight and rigid. She is uncomfortable with the surroundings. She emanates nervousness as well, shown in the little movements of her knees, knocking against her calves silently. Yet in all this, there is a steel backbone to her soul, evident in attitude she reflects. It is buried in her voice, filling the room as she subconsciously asserts that she can stand her own and refuses to let anyone take care of her.

But there is that slight aura of pain that she gives off as well. Something has hurt her, something she is trying to hide. Her eyes are rimmed red and they are filled with a covered pain that seeps through the green irises. Her walls are up, but they are weak, as if someone has broken them down from the inside and she is just now trying to build them back up again.

Why does it feel like I know her?

The clinking of the mug brings my attention back to her as she sets the now empty mug back on the coater. She clasps her hands together nervously but looks at me with a steely expression that retains a soft edge to it.

"Thank you."

I only nod, refusing to speak as it has become so foreign to me to converse with strangers.

"I apologize for the late entry. It's just I have traveled a long way to get here and I need a place to stay…" she trails off unsurely, not meeting my eyes.

My heart constricts.

"For how long?"

She looks at me then, her eyes shining with… is that hurt? And something familiar as well… again the feeling of an unknown recognition flows through me.

"Victoria."

I shift backwards in surprise, my legal name rolling off her tongue. My fears of murderers or killers are back and my heart beats wildly.

"Who are you?"

"Don't you recognize me?" Her voice has a pleading tone to it, soft and… it strikes a chord with me. I have heard that tone before, somewhere, somehow. Was she a patient I had worked with? Someone I had met at UCLA? Maybe a person I had met a bar or club?

"Come on Victoria, I know it's been six years but I haven't changed that much. Jesus. You always were really forgetful. You forgot all the notes to the middle riff during the Christmas Concert in senior year too. Mr. Anderson was so mad at you."

Immediately a smile finds its way onto my face.

"Jade? Jadelyn West?"

She chuckles, the sound reigniting new memories.

"The one and only."

"There is no way."

"Well there has to be, I'm right here."

Memories of my high school friend swim into my conscience and I grin. Jadelyn August West. In high school, we were both part of the same social circle, forcing us to hang out now and then.

When I first met her, she had scared me half to death. She was into the darker clothing and gothic look then and plus her standoffish personality was frightening to me. She was easily irritated by people and she hated most everything. Her favorite hobby was to constantly torture Sinjin, a friend of ours until he ran away in fear. She never really liked me, voicing that I always got the better solos in choir and I always took her parts. She never let go of an opportunity to bring me down. It was torture for the first couple years of high school.

But then she started dating Beck Oliver.

We had all always been a part of the same circle so they had known each other for a while. It was obvious to everyone that he wanted to go out with her. She knew it too and managed to tease him mercilessly about it every day. But he took it with a smile and kept trying. After months of pushing him away only to have him stand his ground she had decided to give him a chance. And from then on, she treated people better. Beck seemed to have this control over her, always knowing how to calm her down or make sure she didn't blow up at everyone. His easy going smile and calm personality was always there to save the day. He put up with her bitchiness and helped her ease through it as well. They were polar opposites, that being the reason why they worked so well. And anyone could see that no matter how much she denied it, Jade was happy.

That was then we started becoming friends. She started acting less like a gank towards me and we began to talk civilly. That later led to hanging out, duets, laughing together, normal friendship. It was nice. There was a side to Jade I never knew existed. Heavy sarcasm and biting remarks were a genuine part of her personality but after diving deeper than that she had a heart and soul like everyone else. She cared about people; you just had to get through some walls. But in the end, she only let Beck in all the way. She had even kept me at arm's distance, something that had irritated me at the time, but in my present situation I could understand. It was her defense mechanism, a way she wouldn't get hurt. She was a closed turtle shell, only open to one person.

She had always wanted to go into music. It was what she wanted to do with her life. Her dream was to be on Broadway and sing for the world. We joked around and promised each other that she would buy me tickets to her show and we'd meet up again after years and have a great time. We both shared a love of singing and that was something that always brought us together, something we agreed would always keep us connected. During senior year, she had been accepted to Julliard with a full scholarship. I was so proud of her and we celebrated in our way into the wee hours of night. Beck had been accepted to Columbia as well and they had decided to move up there together. The last time I had seen her was the graduation after party where drunk and tear stricken we had exchanged our farewells. The next morning, I had woken up with a pounding headache and a phone filled with goodbye texts. Hers announced tiredly that she was on her way to New York and that she'd call me when she got there. I had gotten ready to take off for California after saying goodbye to my family and stepped off the plane only to see a missed call from her dancing on the screen. I had called her back and we had chatted back and forth as she told me about her and Beck's apartment and the view of the city. She hadn't been used to the cold, leaving me chuckling when she started cursing about the biting winds. She told me she wouldn't ever get used to it, being Floridian at heart. We had talked everyday for weeks until school started for both of us. After we began to get immersed into our own lives, we gradually began to drift away, the calls turning into once a week to once a month and once in a while which slowly faded into never at all. She resided in the back of my mind, tucked away only to surface when I thought of the high school days. She had been the closest thing I had to a best friend but in reality, I knew nothing about her at all.

And now here she was, after six years, grinning as she glared at me from my living room couch.

"I swear, you've gotten quieter Vega. You used to be such a chatterbox, you'd never shut up."

I shrug, discomfort growing in the pit of my stomach.

"I've changed."

"Eh, we all have. Though I could recognize you the moment you opened the door. You look just like you did six years ago. Well, you've filled out a bit. A little pudge there," she winks, poking my stomach.

I involuntarily flinch back but quickly cover it up with a smile.

"I am not pudgy."

"Whatever you say. So. How's life treating you?"

The smile falls away slowly and I ponder how to answer. What am I supposed to say?

"Oh you know. It's been good. Do you want some dinner? I just made some," I say smoothly, trying to change the subject.

It works and she stands.

"Sure. But if it tastes like cardboard I'm dumping it on you."

I chuckle humorlessly and serve her a plate as she sits down at the table.

"You've got a nice place here."

I only offer her a small smile and set her pasta down in front of her.

"Jesus Tori, this smells amazing."

"Thanks," I shrug and I settle into my seat.

She begins to dig in, making appreciative sounds as she eats.

"Where the hell did you learn how to cook like this?"

"Dad," I smile, going back to my food.

I can feel her studying me quietly from the other side of the table but I refuse to meet her gaze. I am scared of what I'll find.

"If you cook like this every day, I don't think I'll mind living here."

I pause at this, taking in her words. I look up at her to see her savoring her pasta with her eyes closed and a smile on her face.

"What do you mean Jade?"

She opens her eyes, the sparkling green entities resting on my own. There are emotions swirling within them, emotions I cannot place. It seems like there is a storm of conflict dancing within her, wondering how much to let me in. I wait quietly, understanding the whirlwind.

"Can I move in with you?"

It's a whisper, reverberating with pain and sadness that has been loosely covered up with strength.

I brow my eye in confusion, taking in the unfamiliar feelings coming from the tough as nails Jade West.

"Why?"

She looks down then, refusing to meet my gaze. That conflict is making its move again, vibrating within her. My curiosity is burning, wondering why on earth she would present herself as this vulnerable to me. What happened? Then her mouth opens, her gaze still resting on the cherry table.

"I found Beck with another woman."


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Oh my gosh I'm so sorry this took so long! I know this was supposed to be up last week and I sorely apologize for that! I actually got off track by a week and so last week I had to do Burning Wings, and here I am with Break You Down! I have excuses if you want to hear them, and if you don't skip all this nonsense and get down there ;)**

**Okay, so. IB. The most rigorous program I've ever been in. It's so time consuming and stressful and I'm overwhelmed. But I'm loving every minute of it. It's hard, but what is life without a challenge right? But that is the reason I've been so behind on these and for that I really truly apologize, I do. Thank you for putting up with me. I love everyone who reviews and favorites and follows, I dont know what I'd do without you guys. Thank you for taking the time to do that, it means so much to an author you have no idea. But seriously, enough of me! There is a story that awaits you below the black bold, a story that will take you through the bitter cold. But in the end, you see it'll shine warmth and light, and carry you off to sleep with a smile in the night ;)**

**I have no idea what that was. I apologize. Anyway, please review! I love reading them and they make me happy! Please? Now get down, and get lost.**

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I can see the tears struggling to surface behind her eyes, attempting to relieve the internal lashings that must be constantly afflicting her heart. Her hands begin to tremble lightly and I see the pain reverberating through her soul, the muted green window wide open as the living guest tries weakly to close the shutters. Her heart beat is faster, painful as I see her flinch with every breath. I take in these observations as my mind tries to wrap around the lightning bolt that has just hit my life.

She is fighting to remain calm, evident in the set of her jaw as she clamps her windows closed and vacuums the tears as to be portrayed as a marble Greek Sculpture, chipped away but beautiful. I understand why the timbre of her voice has changed from jovial and caustic to soft and solemn. This change alone shows how much this has really affected her, going so far as to show physical and audible pieces of glass shaking within her vocal cords. She is broken but her hands have put her together in a way where she seems as strong as a mountain. What the unseeing eyes would miss is the spider web cracks tortuously veining their way through the sharp edges, fragile to the point in which the slightest breath would knock over the house of cards that holds no more tricks.

I know she is awaiting a response, be it audible or not, and I ponder what to do. Jade was never a touchy feely person, and I know at the moment I'm not. The old Tori would have tried to convince her there were better people, utter the infamous four words; "It will be okay." But the new Tori understands that that is a promise that cannot be made, a future no one can see. It may never be okay. They are only words holding an empty meaning, dictated as a soothing balm that releases no alleviation at all. So I do the only thing I have taught myself to do in the past three months; I remain silent.

Her eyes lift from the knots in the wood to meet my own, a fresh coat of strength freshly painted on. The quivering, the trembling, it has been hidden with the cloak of invisibility to quench the pity she expects from me, or even just to mollify her tears. Unsure of what she expects, I allow a small smile to crawl upon my face.

She seems surprised by my silence and raises an eyebrow, only for me to gaze reassuringly at her with no words reflected in my eyes. The only thing they say two words. _I'm listening._

"The past six years…. They haven't been easy. I'm not going to lie about that." Her eyes are cautiously watching me, expecting something I know she won't receive. She pauses, awaiting my pity that we both know holds no meaning in those words. The only way I show her I care is through my eyes. She looks deep into them, probing for the old Tori Vega and instead only finds someone who knows the walls she has up and how to get through them.

Finding nothing, she continues.

"But… I always believed we'd make it you know? We'd grow old together with him being an amazing doctor, and me, his wife the beautiful starlet on Broadway… Ever since high school, that's all I wanted."

There are strains in her voice, the spider webs stretching to the point where they might shatter.

"The first four were amazing. I was at Julliard and he was at Columbia. Our apartment wasn't too far away from the city, but not in heart because obviously it was a lot then. Moving in the summer before was fantastic. We'd wake up together, make breakfast together, go out into the city, explore, get some coffee…. It was everything I wanted. Then school started and that definitely put a strain on us but it was nothing we couldn't handle. Those four years were just magical."

There is a light in her voice now, a smile as she relives her happiness and joy. I am envious, my memory of happy days tainted with regret as I barricade all happiness from entering my own life. For with happiness comes the inevitable pain of sorrow.

Then, I see her smile start to falter, and I know it is coming; the blow that changed her life just like the punch that had knocked mine off course.

"Julliard put me in some high positions. I remember, after performing on closing night in a musical I had the lead for, a man came up to me and proposed an offer. He had been writing a script to put on Broadway and he wanted me to be the lead. I was so happy. Beck and I went out to celebrate, downing champagne like it was water. And then, the rehearsals started. They were late nights, both on stage itself and outings with the cast. They became my family and we were so close knit. I would try to bring Beck in but his schoolwork had stepped up and whenever he had a bit of free time, I was gone and when I tried to spend time with him, he was busy. We had some pretty heated fights of course, and that's when it started to get off track. Whenever I was home, we were fighting. Eventually, I just stopped coming home, crashing at a castmate's every so often. When we saw each other, we wouldn't talk. He tried a couple times but he was so irritated eventually he stopped trying. I lived in that apartment only by name. The play came and went and I was offered another role by the same director. Beck and I tried to smooth things over but the relationship was strained at best. But I always thought we would get over it, we would fix it. But four days ago, I had just come home from closing night. My cast wanted to go out and celebrate but I really missed him and I just wanted to go home to him you know? I thought I'd surprise him. I remember walking up to our door, smiling because I had just brought him his favorite desert from the café down the street where we used to have lunch every day. And I open the door and-"

Her breath is too shaky to continue. She's gasping in the middle of her sentences, clawing for air, clawing for the strength to keep going. In a slow movement, I reach across the table and gently put my hand on hers. The tears are filling up in her eyes now as she looks at the touch, her eyes flinching at the touch but not refusing it. I nod gently at her, willing her to continue. She takes in a breath, trying to regulate her breathing. After a pause, she quiets down, her eyes falling closed. The silence fills the room in a beat, me silently wondering if she is able to continue.

Her eyes remain closed, but her lips move, a soft trembling voice slipping out into the night, holding the secrets up to the sky and letting them fade away into stars.

"I put the bag down on the countertop and walked towards his study. The light was on and I figured he was working, a project or something. But instead I find him and some blonde slut splayed out on his table and he's- Ugh! Damn, why can't I finish?!"

She stands angrily, flipping a chair over. I flinch violently, retracting my hand in fear. His face flashes through my thoughts and I see his hands and his white hot anger, oh god, not that, don't hurt me, oh god-

She takes a deep breath, her hands curled into fists. Her eyes are closed and I try to slow my heartbeat. This is Jade. It's not him, it's Jade. Just Jade.

Slowly, she opens her eyes, the green piercing me through and pinning me to the wall behind me. She takes in my position, a curled ball on the wooden chair and her gaze softens. She can see the fear in my eyes and slowly the anger begins to melt away. Her voice becomes soft, quivering with pain.

"Sorry. I lost control for a second there."

I force a smile and uncurl myself, willing my heartbeat to slow down. She looks at me, continuing.

"He saw me in the doorway. Tried to explain. But nothing registered then. I was just looking at him, realizing that the man I loved was no longer there. And then I asked my only question. Why. He only looked at me and pleaded and begged and cried for forgiveness. I only asked him the same question again. He refused to answer, trying to make me understand. But finally he got irritated and he exploded, saying that I had no time for him and he had to satiate his cravings in another way. My only response was to throw the glass vase at him, throw my clothes into a bag, grab my car keys and drive. I needed some way to stop thinking, or maybe it was to think in the first place. I knew I needed to get away from there. I was suffocating, choked by the lies and betrayal. Somehow I ended up on the route to L.A. I barely ate, only slept maybe for 10 hours the entire time. I just needed to go. When I got here, the first thing I remembered was that you lived here. I tried calling your cell but I guess you changed your number because it said it was unavailable. Then I realized I still had your dad's number from that one time where we went to the aquarium and we needed all of the chaperone's numbers. I called him and told me where you were staying. I jumped in the car and here I am. I'm sorry to pin this on you Tori, I just need somewhere to go. I don't have money to pay for a hotel otherwise I wouldn't bother you. I know it's a lot to ask but if you say no, I will go, I promise. I'll do anything to stay. Just… please."

I look at the broken woman in front of me, echoing the current state of my heart. We are kin, connected by betrayal and despair. Our lives had been built up to a shining zenith of joy only to be razed to the ground by those we loved most. She could understand me, understand my life. And I, in turn, could do the same.

But to let her stay might lead to the one thing I fear most; letting her in. Our walls are constructed the same way, leaving her to know how to get past my own. Ah, but I argue to myself, she has one gaping hole in hers; she came to someone for help. That only proves that my walls are more powerful, an indestructible barrier between the outside world and my mind. But am I ready to let someone infringe on my comfort zone like that? Be a solid part of my life for a majority of the time to come?

But even the new Tori Vega couldn't let someone she knew live out on the street.

But the new Tori Vega is also making sure no one has a chance of breaking down her walls.

Swimming with conflict, I look at Jade. Her eyes beseech shelter, protection from the gale that has blown her life away. They also storm with confusion, insecurity, unsureness, and fear. Something I know my eyes looked like three months ago. Broken eyes, like shattered glass.

And with the last thought, I smile gently at the woman in front of me. This could go terribly wrong, or it could turn out fantastically. Maybe we'd leave each other alone. Jade was always the independent person. Either way, this is a roller coaster, a challenge. And no matter what Tori Vega exists now, she is always up for a challenge.


	6. Chapter 6

******A/N: I feel like a terrible person. It's been two months and I said two weeks. School is so crazy, you have no idea. I was hoping to post this as a Christmas present and here it is. You guys have been amazing with the amount of patience you have, really. The way things are going, I'm not going to be sleeping for the next year and a half. I've missed writing this story and I hope you've missed it too. The pace will pick up eventually but I'm going quite slowly now, giving you more of Tori to understand. I dont know if I'll do a Jade POV eventually, but I might. Other than that, this story is Tori-centric and I'm really diving into her emotions. I hope you enjoy the swim. Please please please review, it means the world to me to know that people are still reading this. You guys really are amazing. Thank you so much.**

******Now get down, and get lost.**

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"This is your room. You can put your stuff in the closet over there and I can walk down to the pharmacy around the corner tomorrow morning to grab you anything you need. I have an extra toothbrush in my medicine cabinet if you want and you can go shopping for more clothes tomorrow."

She looks around the room, her eyes touching over the warm colors.

"Did you design this place?"

I crack a small smile and shake my head. "My friend Cat did. She's very good at it."

She raises her eyebrow, a silver glint of a round piercing riding along the expression. "Vega made friends? How surprising. And here I thought you were unlikable," she teases lightly, a smirk on her face.

I force a chuckle, trying to put emotion behind the sound as my hands fidget uncomfortably. "It's late. If you need blankets or anything, they're in the cupboard in the bathroom. Goodnight Jade." I step back, shooting her a small smile.

Her head dips slightly in acknowledgment, allowing a smile of her own to grace her face. "Goodnight Tori. And thank you again."

I turn on my heel and walk over to the kitchen slowly, picking up the empty mug from the coffee table as I pass it. It's still warm, my palms flushing a light red as they absorb the heat and permeate my blood. The red blood cells dance inside my veins, each drop a piece of a tormented puzzle. The cracks in my soul wind themselves around my organs, holding me together with thin string. With one snip, my entire being will fall apart, waiting for me to put it back together again. There is no one to help me. I have to help myself now.

My feet touch the cold tiled floor and I shiver lightly as I walk over to the sink, placing the mug in the sink. I turn the faded red handle, watching the warm water gush out as I begin to scrub the dishes. My mind wanders, watching the rushing water as it knocks everything down the drain. It is unstoppable, nothing hindering its path. Even when the gilded plate stands as an obstacle in its way, it only bends around the obstructing object. It was vivacious, the water, refusing to barricaded; much like life. No matter what happens, life goes on. It doesn't stop because you need time, because you're in pain. Life stops for no one. You can cry about it but either way, you're swept along for the ride. Life can carry you downstream softly, a boat rocking gently on a river, or it can drown you like a tsunami, filling your lungs with an aching pain that refuses to go away. But either way, you keep going. You brave through the rushing water and go with the inevitable direction it leads because you don't have the power to control it. It's not what happens to you, it's how you deal with it. After that tsunami, you can fight your way to the surface of the ice cold pinpricks enveloping your heart or you can drown along with the rushing wave, where I am. Either way, the only way to stop life is death. But even in death, you can't stop time. I don't want to die. I could accept death without fear but I don't have the strength to open that door myself.

My eyes wander down to the faded scars on my wrists and my stomach churns lightly, coating the walls in acid that has the potential to eat me alive from the inside out. I remember the sting of the knife on my skin, dots of red shining on the surface of tan skin. I had needed something to control. My life was falling apart, piece by piece, and nothing was in my hands. The incessant whispers in my head had sneered at me, urging me to the very edge of sanity, leaving no way out but forward. Instead, I took matters into my own hands, watching the inflamed skin pulse crimson as the tinted knife was clutched in the other hand. It had been months when I finally stopped. The whispers had finally melted away, scared by the pain that had clouded my mind. My wounds were open, raw and stinging.

And then Cat had come as a healing balm.

She had walked in on me one day, gasping as she saw me staring blankly at a dripping wrist. Tears streamed down her face as she grabbed the knife from me and put it in her purse. She sat me down on the sofa, rushing to get a bandage and disinfectant. She patched up the cuts, silently sobbing as I watched her, quiet. When she was done, she sat down next to me, not meeting my eyes. It was silent for years, until I felt her eyes rest on mine as I looked down at the white gauze that was slowly staining with drops of red. And Cat, true to her commitment, didn't ask any questions. Instead, she suddenly rushed into my lap, wrapping her arms around my torso as she sobbed into my neck. I flinched in surprise, not expecting the sudden action but felt my heart drop at the touch of hot, salty tears meeting my neck. Slowly, my arms made their way around her sobbing figure, guilt tinting my eyes. I had never seen Cat cry in the six years that I had known her and here she was, breaking down because of me. She never said anything, only looking into my watery eyes when she pulled away after soaking my shirt. Her eyes held so much pain, so much anguish, that I silently promised myself right there and then that I would never purposely be the cause of those eyes again. I took her face gently in my hands, wiping away her tears with the pads of my thumbs, shaking my head at her. I leaned forward and kissed her forehead as she clung to me, pouring warmth into my soul. She stayed with me that night, clasping my hand in hers as she fell asleep. I remember watching her as she danced in her world of dreams, her fingers subconsciously ghosting over the bandage, as if she was watching out for me even as she slept. That was the first night since the event that I fell asleep with a smile on my face.

I awoke the next morning only to find the sheets rumpled and the smell of pancakes drifting through the house. With a yawn, I had run a hand through my rumpled hair, slipping on some socks and padded to the kitchen to find my bubbly red headed friend making us breakfast. She seemed her usual self, chattering on about her plans for today after she had rushed over and squeezed me so hard, I almost went purple. I remember smiling as I ate her blueberry pancakes, watching her to see if she was going to treat me any different. I was relieved to find that she didn't, her countenance lit up with joy and laughter as usual. The only difference came as she was leaving when as she hugged me, she had kissed my cheek, tracing my bandage lightly before she disappeared out the door, the smell of blueberry pancake batter lingering on my clothes. For the next couple months, every time she came to see me, she would always take a moment to take my wrist and document the cuts as they faded into scars. She would always smile after she did her little inspection, shaking out of her trance only to pull me away into whatever activity we were doing that day.

I shake myself out of the dark thoughts as I finish rinsing and drying all of the plates and silverware in the sink. I take the pasta and marinara and scrape them into a Tupperware container, placing them in the fridge before walking out of the kitchen and switching off the light. With a sigh and a glance at the time, I make my way to my bedroom, allowing my thoughts to drift to the visitor next door.

The only roommate I've ever had is Cat. With her, I was the big sister, the overprotective mother. She had never seemed to mind, taking me for who I was. I had woken her up in the mornings, cooked for the both of us, always keeping an eye on her when we went out because she has a tendency to wander. I was the one there to comfort her when she was sad, calm her down when she was mad, and drive away boys who just wanted to take advantage of her. It was almost funny how the tables had turned and she was the one watching over me now. But Jade was foreign territory. I have no idea how to act with her, how to deal with her. She had always been more independent than the rest of us, preferring to brood alone and stay to herself rather than communicate with the group. She had always been _there_, she just rarely ever contributed to the conversation unless it was an opportune moment to contribute a snarky comment. What will she do when I'm away at work? She can't stay at home and do nothing all day. She needs to get a job. But do I have a right to tell her to do that? Maybe I should let her be for a couple days, give her some space. I know that if I was in her position, I wouldn't trust anyone to force any decisions on me. Maybe if she starts working, I can ask her to pay rent. But for now, she needs a break. Beck really hurt her. A simmering anger boils up in me as I think about what he did to her. Breaking up was one thing but cheating was another issue altogether.

I shimmy underneath my covers, my mind whirling. I don't have work tomorrow so I can stay home and figure things out with Jade. My only fear is that she'll start asking questions, questions I can't answer. I can't let her break my walls down. They have to be strong and airtight, resistant to any blows. Before I drift off to sleep, one thought forces its way into my mind, leaving a pit of fear to burrow down into my stomach.

Jade West was always pretty good at finding out secrets.


End file.
